So, You Didn’t Get What You Wanted / Happy Birthday, Jack Kerouac

Since it’s Jackie K’s big ol’ b-day, here are a few of his tips from Belief and Technique for Modern Prose:

19. Accept loss forever

28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better


29. You’re a Genius all the time

I heard back about my play last night. I am not one of the four finalists that are invited to the Kennedy Center to have their plays read and participate in workshops, etc. I said I wouldn’t get my hopes up, but I kind of did… obviously, it was an exciting event to think about. It definitely stings.

I take rejections from online publications with names that I like (I tend to submit places that have funny names, so judge me) with a bit more grace than this, perhaps. The fact is: I really like that ten-minute play. It’s one of the few things I’ve written that I’m really proud of, and the subject material hits so close to home. Baby edit: I was one of sixteen in the country, so that still feels pretty good.

I have to go to work and answer telephones (hopefully randomly speak to a celebrity from my childhood like I did my last shift) and smile for four hours until my face hurts. Did you know that you can hear a smile over the phone? It’s true.

Now that going to the Kennedy Center isn’t in my plans, I have to figure out something new. I will probably submit my play to a theater and hope it gets performed. I’m still waiting to hear back on a few internship possibilities.

In happier news 3 more of my poems found a home somewhere. I’ll provide the link as soon  as they go up.

Here are some photos from frolicking around Baltimore:



Sippin’ & bitin’ with my dude. Look, it’s my face on my blog for the first time!


Spring is coming!


Aaand I’ve been stealing my boyfriend’s t-shirts because I hate everything I own?


Hope you all have a sunny day and talk to celebrities on the telephone. xx


Come On, Feet

Things are starting to look up for me, anonymous Internet. I have successfully unpacked all of my belongings (which consist of books, books, books, clothes, clothes, a wok, coffee cones, and teapot) and have been lazily coexisting with my new roommates, le stinky boyfriend included. It’s been a nice break and starting over feels phenomenal. I have never lived outside of Michigan before and I feel more out of my element than I maybe (probably) let on sometimes.

EXAMPLE SO YOU KNOW THAT I AM SERIOUS: when I go to a bar… even though I usually just want whiskey and ginger ale, lezbehonest… I have no idea what to order. I don’t know the Maryland micro-brews like the back of my hand! I don’t have a favorite stout or IPA from a certain place and I never knew a person to drink Yuengling until I got here (AND I just had to Google how to spell the damn thing). I don’t want Baltimore bartenders to judge me. But why should I give a shit? Oh, but why does anyone ever give a shit?

Instead of just growing a back-bone and picking something to drink when the aforementioned intimidating bartender(s) ask, “Do you want something to drink?” I squeak, “I don’t know.” What? I hate people like me.

In other news: I had a nice interview at a great restaurant today that seems promising. I will be going in for a “working interview” sometime next week where I will shadow someone else and hopefully everyone will decide that they like me enough to hang out/work with me 30-40 hours a week. I’m pleasant at work and I like working, so I’m more excited than nervous, which is superb.

HOWEVER, my writer’s block has been a dark lady beast of the night that will not let me accomplish anything whatsoever. It is no fun combating writer’s block while searching for employment and learning my way around a new city. It is no fun combating writer’s block, ever.

Blah blee bloo blah. Writing this blog makes me feel way too self-important, but there it is. Here you are. Where am I?

Tomorrow is Saturday. I’m going to brunch and I’m going to get an Irish coffee and get my writer-girl dress and blazer on. Productivity and creativity are the names of the game!

Come on, feet.